Half-Truths
by Epic Insanity
Summary: "There's thunder in his chest and a flash of lightning makes him grab her hand." Reddington reflects on his method of teaching Elizabeth how to negotiate his world. S1


**I just started watching The Blacklist. My brother was on episode 7 and I jumped in with him and instantly got hooked. Just went back to the pilot to get the full experience. I don't really binge TV shows-in fact there's only a handful that I actually watch. But I think there's an addiction raring inside of me, attempting to burst free in a life-ruining manifestation. James Spader is a friggin hottie. I have a thing for bad guys with snake tongues. Especially older ones. I know, I'm a freak. I can definitely see Liz and Red getting together. It was an instantaneous kind of thing, "Oh yes, yes, yes. They will do nicely." But I'm a slow burn kind of person. I need to start from the beginning of any relationship and see where the first emotional connections are made. That's kind of what this is.**

 **Ah well. Here's this thing.**

* * *

"You can trust me."

The words come forth with barely a thought. They are truth. So often Raymond Reddington finds himself speaking in half-truths. Conversations pass with more important messages conveyed in the pause between words. Silent. Subtle. You get his information when you deserve it-when your mind has dug through itself, come out the other end, and discovered that your standards of truth have changed. He slowly bends individual minds until they either unknowingly conform for his convenience or retreat with nothing gained and moments of clarity lost.

But these words are not curled through a sneer. They are not stuck in between a rock and a hard place. They are merely a statement reflecting an instance of straightforward honesty.

"You can trust me."

He doesn't watch as Lizzie wipes tears and stumbles over words, theories, inconsistencies. Eyes forward and face composed, he simply sits and waits for her composure. There's no reason to worry over her. Lizzie is strong, she will become stronger. He knows this, sees the resolve in her eye and the surety in her gait. It was almost relieving when she plunged a pen in his throat. _This_ was what his girl was made of: stone and fire and hurricanes. No, Lizzie will be just fine when given time to sort the mental puzzle. Reddington can wait. He's played the long game for over twenty years. When one knows the outcome of the game, one can settle back with a drink and marvel at the intricacies of each play without worry.

At least that's what he tells himself. It's a solid argument.

And yet the here-and-now is like a punch in the gut from days long before he learned how to physically outmaneuver an attack, and later forgo violence with a handful of words. More half-truths. Lizzie's trembling is disquieting _his_ normally steady heartbeat. There's thunder in his chest and a flash of lightning makes him grab her hand. He wishes to push confidence and peace from himself to her, but those feelings are momentarily disengaged. Like a transaction that didn't go through. Normally he'd burn a person's reputation or kill them for not upholding such a bargain (depending on the circumstances; he doesn't go around putting bullets in brains for fun-contrary to popular belief.) But one can't put a bullet through one's emotions. Red is dissatisfied with his reaction.

They sit in silence, half-truths spinning around the air above their heads. Reddington could easily inhale one and regurgitate it to calm Lizzie's nerves. But for a short time, Reddington wants to be sincere. No one else in Lizzie's life is: her husband is nailing lies into the coffin of their marriage and her employers are tracking every misplaced footfall hoping to rip the rug from beneath her. She is being set up for failure. But Reddington wasn't lying when he said he was offering her success. He has plans. Big plans. Nation-rocking plans. And in order for those plans to manifest in reality, a half-truth would not do.

"You can trust me."

Her hand gradually stops trembling and once again he can feel the _mountain_ of Lizzie's strength begin to gather around. The thunder in his chest calms and the lightning strike connecting their hands sizzles to a gentle stream of soft fire-like the glow of a wood stove in a cabin during the winter. Reddington realizes that this is _nice_. Really nice. To sit next to someone and have complete faith in their resolve and know (or maintain strong-willed hope) that they see the same in you. To know (or maintain strongly-willed hope) that they trust you.

Reddington wants to pick her mind clean like the smallest animals of the forest turn skeletons into sheer, white, stiff death. He wants to hear everything going on upstairs while taking a long pull of something cool from a clear flask. But again, those half-truths were fluttering above them and Reddington was so familiar with their sounds that he'd know immediately. They were distasteful things that left a sourness in the mouth. And they tended to ring in the ears for an annoyingly large amount of time. No, Lizzie had come to him with nowhere else to go. Reddington hordes things of value and there is little he values more than being her confidant. Best not to push her too hard and be hit with a tactic he knows too well.

"You can trust me."

These truths will bring her closer to him and exile everyone else as their lies drop like breadcrumbs leading to a dragon's den. Lizzie will learn quickly and Reddington will be there every step of the way to ensure this.

He wishes he were holding her right hand so he could stroke the scar and give her the strength she often seeks there. He wants to look directly into her eyes, hands on her shoulders, and say these words without thick emotions, confusing scenarios, and splitting loyalties blinding her. He wants to whisper half-truths into her ear and see how long until her eyes light up with discovery. And in another time and place he will.

Lizzie clutches his hand tighter and Reddington thinks that sometimes the full truth is much better.

* * *

 **So help me if they make Red Liz's father I'm going to throw a table. Not only would that make me feel weird about shipping them, but it would be lame. Like, "Of course he's her father. That's the plot twist in every slightly dramatic story." Give me something truly shocking and delicious at the end.**

 **Hope you enjoyed. Lemme know if you did cause I've got ideas storming in my head.**


End file.
